And her motives were of the best and purest. All she desired was to get some hint, some clue, as to which way to look for a possible suspect.
Walking lightly, though taking no especial precautions of silence, she went slowly down stairs, and reached the door of the library. From the hall, as she stood at the portière, she heard some one talking inside the room. Listening intently she recognized the voice of Eleanor Black at the telephone.
Yes, Mrs. Black was saying: keep still about it for the present, yes, yes, Ill do whatever you say, but dont come here tonight. You see it was an Italian yes, Ill meet you tomorrow at the same time and same place. No, dont call me up, when I can, Ill call you.
Hearing the click that told of the hanging up of the receiver Avice quickly stepped aside into an alcove of the hall, where she could not be seen.
But apparently, Mrs. Black had no thought of any one near her, for she turned off the library table light she had been using, and softly went upstairs. A low hall light was sufficient illumination for this, and Avice saw her go.
After waiting a few moments, the girl went into the library, and first closing the door, she switched on the light.
Taking up the telephone, she said to the operator, Please tell me that number I just had. I cant remember it, and I want to preserve it.
Sleepily the girl responded, telling the number and exchange.
Thank you, said Avice, and hanging up the receiver she went to the desk and jotted down the number.
Not that I have the least suspicion of Eleanor, she said to herself, but if Im going to investigate, I mustnt leave a stone unturned, especially anything so unusual as a midnight telephoning.
And then Avice set herself to the task she had come for. But she found nothing definite or incriminating. There were some old and carefully preserved notes from men who were very evidently angry with her uncle, but they were not sufficiently strong to point to anything criminal. There was the usual collection of bills, business letters and memoranda, but nothing to interest or alarm her, and finally, growing wearied, she went back upstairs.
As she passed Mrs. Blacks door it softly opened, and the lady herself, wrapped in a kimono, looked out. Her long black hair hung in two braids, and her eyes were very bright.
Avice, where have you been? At this time of night!
Just down in the library, looking after some matters.
Well, its time you were in bed, and the door closed again.
Hm, thought Avice, she is afraid I heard her telephoning! Thats why shes on the watch!
And now, her momentary weariness gone, Avice was again widely awake.
Ive got to think it out, she told herself. I dont for a minute imagine Eleanor is implicated in Uncle Rowlys death, but what was she telephoning for? And she said it was an Italian, and shes Italian herself, and theres something queer. Im glad I got that telephone number, but I doubt if Ill ever use it. It doesnt seem quite right now, though it did when I asked Central for it. I believe Ill tear it up.
But she didnt.
CHAPTER III
PINCKNEY, THE REPORTER
Theres no use mincing matters, said Mrs. Black, as she and Avice sat at breakfast next morning: I was your uncles promised wife and I feel that it is, therefore, my right to assume the head of the household and give orders.
Avice looked at her sadly. I have no objection to your giving orders so long as they in no way interfere with my plans or wishes. But I think it would be pleasanter for us both if you were to drop that defiant air, and let us be on a more friendly footing. I quite appreciate your position here, but you must remember that though you were engaged to my uncle you were not married to him and that
That makes no difference in reality! As his future wife, I have every right of a wife already, so far as this house is concerned. Indeed, it is already mine, by will as you are soon to find out.
Very well, Mrs. Black, said Avice, wearily, lets not quarrel over it. Im sure I dont want this house, and I am not at all afraid that my uncles will leaves me unprovided for. I wish the coroner would come! I long to get to work on the solution of the mystery.
How you talk! and Mrs. Black shuddered delicately; I dont see how you can bear to have to do with those awful investigations!
Would you sit calmly down, and let the murderer go scot-free?
Yes, rather than mix in with that awful coroner man, and worse still, detectives! Mrs. Black brought out the word as if she had said scorpions.
Avice was about to make an indignant reply, when the bell rang, and the card was brought in of Mr. Pinckney, a reporter.
Dont see him, said Mrs. Black, looking scornfully at the card.
Indeed I shall, and Avice rose determinedly. Why, if I dont set him straight, theres no telling what hell print!
Realizing this, Mrs. Black followed the girl into the library, and together they met the reporter.
Awfully sorry to intrude, said a frank-faced, nice-voiced young man. Often I wish Id chosen any other career than that of a reporter. Downright good of you to see me, Miss Trowbridge, isnt it?
Yes, said Avice, I am Miss Trowbridge and this is Mrs. Black.
What can we tell you? said Mrs. Black, acknowledging the visitors bow, and quickly taking the initiative. There is so little to tell
Ah, yes, and the interrupting Pinckney deliberately turned to Avice. But you will tell me all you know, wont you? Its so annoying to the family to have details made up and we must get the news somehow.
His youthful, almost boyish air pleased Avice, who had thought reporters a crude, rather slangy lot, and she responded at once.
Indeed I will Mr. Pinckney. Its horrid to have things told wrongly, especially a thing like this. Her eyes filled, and the reporter looked down at his still empty notebook.
But, dont you see, Miss Trowbridge, he said, gently if you tell me the details it might help in unearthing the truth, for you dont know who did it, do you?
No, we dont broke in Eleanor Black; youd better not try to talk Avice, dear, you are so unstrung. Let me answer Mr. Pinckneys questions.
Im not unstrung, Eleanor, at least not so much so that I cant talk. Mr. Pinckney, if you can be of assistance in any way of solving the mystery of my uncles death, I shall be very grateful. The inquest will be held this morning, and I suppose, I hope that will throw some light on it all. But just now I know of no way to look.
Oh of course, it was a highway robber, said Mrs. Black. There can be no doubt of it.
But is there any proof of it? and the reporter looked at her inquiringly. No doubt is not sufficient, proof positive is what we want.
Of course, we do, agreed Avice. Just think, Mr. Pinckney, we know nothing but that my uncle was stabbed to death in the woods. We dont even know why he went into the woods. Though that, of course, is probably a simple reason. He was a naturalist and went often on long tramps looking for certain specimens for his collections.
Yes, that would explain his being there, said Pinckney, eagerly. Did you know he was going?
No; on the contrary he said he would be home at five oclock.
Yes, that would explain his being there, said Pinckney, eagerly. Did you know he was going?
No; on the contrary he said he would be home at five oclock.
He told me he might be home earlier, said Mrs. Black, looking sorrowful. I expected him as early as three or four, for we were going out together. You see, Mr. Trowbridge was my fiancé.
Ah, and Pinckney looked at her with increased interest. Are there other members of this household?
No, replied Mrs. Black. Just Mr. Trowbridge and myself, and our dear niece, Miss Trowbridge. We were a very happy family, and now Mrs. Black raised her handkerchief to her eyes, and now, I am all alone.
You two will not remain together, then? the reportorial instinct cropped out.
We havent decided on anything of that sort yet, broke in Avice. Eleanor, dont be ridiculous! Mr. Pinckney is not interested in our domestic arrangements.
Indeed I am. The readers of The Gazette are all anxious to know the least details of your life and home.
They must be disappointed then, and Avices haughty look forbade further personal questions.
Tell me more of the the tragedy, then. Was the weapon found?
No, not that I know of, and Avice looked surprised. I never thought of it.
No, it was not, affirmed Mrs. Black. The police were unable to find any weapon.
Too bad, frowned Pinckney; the dear public loses a thrill.
The public? Do they care? and Avice started.
Rather! New Yorkers love a murder mystery if there are gruesome elements here and there.
All I want is justice, and Avices big, brown eyes turned full on Pinckneys face. You know about such things. Do you suppose we can trace the murderer with so little to go on?
Cant tell yet. May be lots of evidence forthcoming at the inquest.
At this point Mrs. Black was called from the room by a servant, and Pinckney said quickly, Who is she? and why dont you like her?
For some reason, Avice did not resent the mans directness, and answered, slowly. She is housekeeper, and was engaged to my uncle. I dont dislike her, not altogether.
Is she Italian? She looks so.
Of Italian descent, yes. Why?
Nothing. Shes a stunner for looks, but shes entirely able to take care of herself. I say, Miss Trowbridge, are you alone, in this matter, I mean.
In a way, I am. There is no one in the house but the housekeeper and myself. But Judge Hoyt, my uncles lawyer, looks after all business affairs for us.
Judge Hoyt?
Yes, Leslie Hoyt.
Youre fixed all right that way, then. But I say, Miss Trowbridge, I dont want you to think me impertinent, but if I can help you at all in looking about, investigating, you know,
Do you mean detecting?
Yes, in a small way. Ive opportunities to go into the world and inquire into things that are a sealed book to you. But I suppose youll have detectives, and all that. And any way, its too soon to think about it. But remember, if you want any sleuthing done, on the side, in an amateur way Id be awfully glad to help you out.
Thats kind of you Mr. Pinckney, and Ill be glad to take advantage of your offer. But do you have to put everything in your paper?
Just about. Oh, of course, if I unearth anything of importance, like a clue, you know, Id tell the police first but Id want the scoop for ours.
How can there be any clues when it happened in the lonely woods? I thought clues were little things picked up off the floor, or found in peoples pockets.
Well, mightnt they pick up little things off the ground? Or find them in your uncles pockets?
Do you think they will? Mr. Pinckney, youve no idea how I want to find the murderer! I never knew before that I had so much revenge in my nature, but I feel now I could devote my whole life, if need be, to tracking down that villain! I loved my uncle almost like a father. Most girls, I suppose, would be so broken up with grief that they couldnt talk like this, but I seem to find the only comfort in the thought of avenging this horrible deed!
Dont bank on it too much, Miss Trowbridge. They say only one murderer in six is convicted, and in only a small fraction of murders is anybody even suspected of the crime. But this case will be ferreted out, Im sure, both because of the prominence of your uncle, and the fact that there is money enough to hire the best talent, if desired.
Indeed it is desired! I shall, of course, inherit much of my uncles fortune, and I would spend every penny rather than fail in the search!
You wont mind my reporting this conversation, will you, Miss Trowbridge? Im here for a story, you know,
Oh, must you put me in the paper? Please dont!
I wont put anything you wont like. But our readers want you. You know, all the men want now-a-days is a graft yarn, and the women, some inside society gos information.
Avice would have made further objection to newspaper publicity, but people began to arrive, and, too, Pinckney was content to leave off conversation at that point.
He was young, and enthusiastic in his chosen career. Moreover, he was canny and clever. He had further chat with Mrs. Black, and he managed to get a few words with the servants. And somehow, by hook or crook, he secured photographs of both women, and of the house, as well as of the victim of the tragedy himself.
Aside from reportorial talent, Pinckney had a taste for detective work. He was, or fancied himself, the stuff of which story-book detectives are made, and he was more than glad to have the press assignment of this case, which might give him wide range for his powers of deduction.
When Judge Hoyt arrived, he at once sought out Avice, and his fine, impassive face grew infinitely gentle as he greeted the sad-eyed girl.
In her black gown, she looked older, and her pale cheeks and drawn countenance told of a sleepless night.
How are you dear? asked Hoyt, taking her hands in his. Ive been so anxious about you.
Im all right, and Avice tried to smile bravely. But Im glad youve come. I feel so alone and responsible Mr. Pinckney says I have a splendid lawyer but I dont see anything for a lawyer to do.
There may be. I believe the police have made quite a few discoveries, though I know nothing definite. Of course, all my legal powers are at your disposal, but I too, doubt if the criminal is ever apprehended.
Oh, dont say that! We must find him! You will, wont you?
Ill do my best Avice. But I am a lawyer, not a detective, you know.
But youre a judge, and you have been district attorney, and youre the greatest criminal lawyer in the state!
Yes, but a criminal lawyer must have a criminal to convict. Rest assured if the criminal is found, he shall have full punishment.
Of course, but I want help to find him. I want to employ detectives and
And so you shall, but wait Avice, until the inquest is over. That may bring developments. I wish I had been here in New York yesterday.
What could you have done?
Perhaps nothing to prevent or help, but I would have been at your uncles office during the day, and I would have known of his plans. Who is this Pinckney you mentioned?
A reporter for The Daily Gazette? I didnt want to see him at first, but Im glad I did. Hes going to help me detect.